


Andromeda & Perseus

by romanitas



Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-22
Updated: 2014-03-22
Packaged: 2018-01-16 13:02:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,020
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1348429
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/romanitas/pseuds/romanitas
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Theirs is a story that might one day be in the stars, too.  Though right now Annabeth is just trying to get Percy to remember the stories already up there.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Andromeda & Perseus

**Author's Note:**

> inspired by [this](http://annabethjackson.co.vu/post/71787775370/can-we-talk-about-how-annabeth-taught-percy-about) post on tumblr! because percy and annabeth were tiny tsuning stupid tween losers.

It’s the end of July, and he’s been doing this whole camp thing for about a month now, picking up on the flow of it all quickly enough, quicker than most schedules and schoolings. Percy is on his way towards the amphitheatre for the sing-along when Annabeth jogs up next to him and nudges him roughly in the side with her elbow. She doesn’t really say hi in the normal way, he’s discovering. 

“ _Ow_ , Annabeth, what was that for?” 

She has a look on her face that makes him both a little nervous and a little excited, because it means she’s planning something. “I have an idea,” she says, confirming it outright, and maybe the excitement starts to outweigh the nerves. Whatever she has in mind, she wants to do it with him, and there’s a very small list of people who seek him out for that sort of thing.

“Do I need a helmet?”

She elbows him again, a little harder. “Don’t be an idiot. You just need to skip the sing-along, if you’re up for a little risk.”

He blinks at her, glancing over in its direction, where the chatter of the other campers echoes up to them and the campfire light flickers. He likes participating in them, as silly as they are – it gives him a sense of community and togetherness. 

Annabeth’s staring at him expectantly though, crossing her arms, and he likes that, too, likes that she’s his friend and wants to do – well, something with him. He’ll take a risk on the something if she’s involved. “I jumped off the Gateway Arch, Annabeth, I’m pretty sure I’m up for a little risk.”

“Good,” she says, a grin flashing for a moment on her face, before she steels it over in an attempt to play cool. “Follow me.” 

And she’s off, scurrying away, leaving him no choice but to indeed follow. She leads him towards the beach, and his mind goes in about a million directions trying to figure out what it is she wants to do. Annabeth is full of surprises, though, and Percy’s realizing he’s pretty okay with that. But she’s still dumb and annoying. 

She stops just as the sand begins, putting her hand on her hips as she looks out over the Long Island Sound. Percy blinks at her, blinks at the ocean, and scratches the back of his neck. “Uh. Are we swimming?”

She rolls her eyes at him, and he sticks his tongue out as she replies. “Uh, no. I’m not crazy. We’re here to learn.”

Percy groans. “I don’t wanna miss the sing-along for some kinda _lesson_.”

“Oh, shut up, it’s not like I’m going to start talking to you in Ancient Greek. You’re not _that_ good at it yet.” 

“Excuse _me_ for being a beginner.”

“You’re excused,” she replies breezily, then glides forward onto the beach. Percy makes an annoyed sound, but he’s still following her. She stops short about halfway to the water, and he nearly walks into her, tripping over his own feet in an effort to avoid doing so. 

She turns to look at him, and though it’s dark out, he can still see the outline of her face in the moonlight. Her lips are drawn into a line, and she looks a lot more uncertain than she did before. “I guess you do have an excuse for not knowing them, considering you can barely even see the _moon_ from Manhattan most of the time.”

“What are you talking about?”

She huffs. “The stars, stupid.”

He blinks. “What about the stars?”

She rolls her eyes again and lets out a sound of someone long suffering (a month or so is apparently long enough to fall under long suffering). “You said the only constellation you knew was the Big Dipper.”

He scrunches his face up; he doesn’t really remember bringing that up at all, but he must have, because Annabeth wouldn’t pull a stunt like this otherwise, teasing included. “It’s a giant spoon.”

“It’s part of Ursa Major, it’s not just a _giant spoon_.” She says this with an air of ‘oh my gods how can you be so stupid.’

“Is that a giant octopus?” He immediately thinks of an octopus eating a bowl of seaweed with a giant spoon wrapped in one of the tentacles, singing something about fish and boats. And maybe mermaids. 

“Ursa. Major.” She repeats it like she’s speaking to a five year old. “It means ‘large bear’ not ‘large octopus.’ Look,” she sighs, grabbing his arm and directing him to look upward at the sky. “Find the _spoon_.”

If being manhandled bothers him, he doesn’t say anything, but he’s too busy looking for the spoon. His face lights up when he spots it, and he points proudly. “Right there!” 

“Okay, now look below the spoon part – ” And it’s hard to show someone exactly where a constellation is, but Annabeth sure tries. To her credit, she explains it pretty well, and Percy lets out a happy noise when he notices the shape of the entire bear.

“I see it!” he laughs, ridiculously pleased with himself. If the twitch of her lips is any indication, she’s pretty pleased, too. 

“Great, now follow that line – from the edge of the spoon,” every time she says ‘spoon,’ there’s something vaguely annoyed in her tone, but it’s easiest for him to understand if she keeps calling it that, “there’s a bit of a curved angle. Look for a crooked ‘W’ shape.”

He makes a face, but even though that sounds utterly bizarre, he tries to do as she asks. He squints up at the sky, tilting his head backwards. Annabeth sighs, grabbing his shoulder and shoving him onto the ground, where she sits beside him (naturally with still a good few inches of space). “Is that easier?” she asks.

He lands with an oof and a mind to complain at her again, but she’s staring at him a little hopefully, sort of like she wants nothing more than to get him to see the stupid constellations. So he looks up, and, yeah, it is easier to see this way, so he nods at her with a grin before trying to find the apparent crooked W. It takes him a little while, but Annabeth just sits quietly and patiently, doing some of her own silent stargazing as she waits. 

“I think I see it. It’s, like, super crooked, right?” He tries in vain to make the shape of the ‘w’ with his hands before attempting to gesture towards it in the sky, and she leans in a little closer to see it from his angle. And then suddenly he’s just glad it’s super dark out because that is way too close and he can feel his face heating up. 

She finally pulls away with a nod, then leans back on her hands. “Yeah! That’s Cassiopeia. She’s sitting in a chair. Do you remember that story? She’s the mother of Andromeda – oh, speaking of, we can find her, too!” She cuts herself off in her own excitement and tries to explain the position of Andromeda in relation to Cassiopeia. “There’s a whole galaxy named after her, you know. The constellation’s on the edge of it.” 

_She’s even a nerd about astronomy_ , he wonders mutely, completely oblivious of the grin fighting to stay on his face. It takes a little longer, but he finds Andromeda, too, and that’s about when Annabeth decides to go off on the mother and daughter, explaining their lives both simply and flushed out. He listens, though, in spite of himself, because as annoying as her fountain of knowledge is, she’s still pretty animated when she talks about it. 

And then she hesitates for a moment, glancing at him out of the corner of her eye. Like she’s suspicious of what might follow. “Perseus is up there, too.” 

“No, I’m right here.”

Annabeth groans, but he’s grinning at her; she punches him in the arm, but it was totally worth it. “Are you a constellation?”

“I could be,” he says cheerfully. 

She smacks him this time. What is that, four hits since the start of the evening? It might be a new record. “You’re full of something, but it’s not stars.” 

“You’re not allowed to say kelp.”

“Will you shut up and let me tell you where Perseus is?” 

He sticks his tongue out at her, and she returns the gesture, but he does stop talking and give her the silence to explain. It takes him a little longer, but he finds his namesake in the sky, too, and Annabeth bumps his shoulder, looking pleased with herself that she managed to teach him four constellations so far. 

He bumps hers back. “There are probably way too many to learn them all, right?” 

She gives him a look. “You can learn all the important ones. Besides, some are seasonal, so you’re in luck.”

“It’s not even a one night lecture?” he groans.

She literally pffts at him. “You have no idea how many stars are in the sky alone, do you? Not even counting the ones that aren’t in constellations?” 

“No, but I bet you’re gonna tell me.” 

She sighs, looking back up. “Nobody knows. We can’t even see them all from Earth, so don’t worry, we’ll just stick to the relevant stories.”

“Relevant how, exactly? Because I feel like that still leaves room for debate.”

“Relevant to your _existence_ , is that good enough for you?” He can hear the eyeroll in her tone. 

“Well, considering they already named one after me, I guess it is pretty relevant to my existence.” 

“You’re a moron.”

“You’re ridiculous.”

“You’re the one making stupid remarks.”

“You’re the one trying to cram too much information into one night.”

“I am not! I just said we couldn’t do it all tonight!”

He pouts. “Come on, Annabeth, I don’t want to miss the campfire every night either.”

“I’m not stupid, people’d start to notice.” She gets huffy, and Percy starts preparing himself for her to storm off. Only she doesn’t, she just sits there in her huff, looking at the sky to avoid looking at his face. “If you don’t want to do this again, fine, whatever.”

He can still see her face, though, and even if he’s still trying to figure out just who exactly Annabeth is, he can tell that she’s pretending his answer one way or another doesn’t matter. “No. We can,” he says finally. It surprises him that he actually really wants to. 

She glances at him out of the corner of her eyes, but it kind of looks like something brightens in her expression. The answer totally mattered, and he totally nailed it. “A couple days, maybe?” she asks idly, shifting her gaze out across the sea like she doesn’t care. 

He shrugs. Like he doesn’t care either. “Sure, I guess.” 

She starts smiling, and so does he, only when they look at each other, both of them try to shove it off their faces into something a lot more coolly neutral. It doesn’t really work, but that’s okay, because Annabeth nudges him in the arm and just starts talking about the Perseids, due to start any day now. 

When Percy comments on how great it is to have a meteor shower named after him, too, Annabeth lets out a groan and actually shoves him over into the sand, but he goes down laughing. 

It’s a trend that continues throughout the rest of their summer: Annabeth lectures, Percy’s difficult, she uses force to enforce her lessons, but he learns as much as she teaches him. He’d never say it out loud, but it’s pretty fun, even if he’s _learning_. They’re not the only ones who sit out along the beach to enjoy the Perseids, but Percy is the only one who gets a preemptive warning against it being a show just for him. It’s only when Percy’s on his way back to the city for the school year without Annabeth does he get hit with disappointment that he might not get to learn the winter constellations, too.


End file.
